#THIS SERIES HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD AND I CANNOT ESCAPE

[janthecrow]

my friends already know abt this but i cannot stop thinking abt this image oml THEY ARE A FAMILY AND THE PLANTS LOVE DAVE EVEN IF HE DOES THE MOST RANDOM THINGS

I AM AWARE THAT THIS IS FROM AN AD IN PVZ2 BUT STILL- FOUND. FAMILY. I HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO SHUT UP ABT THIS AND I APPLOGIZE TO MY FRIENDS FOR REPEATING THIS OVER AND OVER AGAIN I JSUT SHRVSJBFD

SHAKING THEM LIKE A CAN OF SODA RN /AFF

[rainbowcolored7]

Me, trying to write KP, doing really well, vibes good, words flowing...

Me, is reminded, yet again, of the sexy bas/job tiktok.

*sighs heavily*

[sixosix]

Hii six how r u doing? Good luck on your midterms (/^▽^)/

(ps Thawed series has me in a chokehold i cannot escape)

hi anon!! thank you for checking up on me!!! thank you to you and everyone else cheering me on 😞😞 it means a lot to me. you are all so precious 2 me…

there are a bunch of other asks in my inbox that i cant reply to yet because i dont want to stay too long here, so if youre one of the people who sent an ask thats been rotting—i’m sorry!!

im so glad to hear u like it ❤️❤️❤️ once i get the motivation, i cant wait to get back on it again and hook my readers back. i cant let them forget thawed… 🫶

[stcries]

dropping some headcanons and lore for my spooky month muses because this hyperfixation has me in a chokehold rn.

( tw for cannibalism,  murder,  animal violence. )

bob’s background is much more developed,  thanks to some help via a friend on discord.   he grew up on a rural farm with his mother and father,  with the both of them selling their produce in order to create a steady income for their family.   bob’s mother focused primarily on vegetation,  such as fruits,  vegetables,  herbs and the like.   his father however focused heavily on the production of meats,  being the one responsible for selling their steaks,  chickens and other profitable meat items.   being surrounded by such a food centric environment during his early life,  bob’s young mind quickly became fixated on the idea of becoming a chef,  which became his dream from a young age.

as he grew up,  his father eventually taught him the ways to slaughter the animals on their farm,  wanting his son to take up the mantle.  although hesitant at first,  bob was soon joining his dad on the job.   however,  one day,  something seemed to snap within his mind.   just what could he slaughter with the skills he had learned ?   once bob became a young adult,  that’s when his mind finally broke.   one night,  he decided to test this theory,  sneaking into his parent’s room and striking them both in the head with the very same gun they used on their livestock,  killing them.   in his already deranged state,  another thought entered his mind;  if they could be slaughtered the same,  then could they also be eaten the same as well ?   his questions were soon answered,  and thus started his cannibalistic descent into madness.

the amulet within his chest placed there via the cult also has some doings for his cannibalistic nature.   he was recruited to the cult because of the horrific reputation he eventually made for himself,  the cult seeing bob as a valuable asset in their goals.   the amulet inside bob’s chest gives him incredible strength and endurance,  but also comes at a cost;  it only enhances his hunger further.   this ensures that he’s constantly on the prowl,  willing to perform the cult’s wishing in order to satisfy himself,  but even that doesn’t last long.

now onto kevin.   before kevin worked in the candy store,  he was actually a police officer,  inspired by this one piece of fanart i found.   he joined the force when he was very young,  fresh out of high school even.   kevin was inspired via his uncle,  who i headcanon to be jack,  and did his best to follow in his footsteps,  which he did eventually achieve.   however,  as true with the chaotic nature of the spooky month series,  it was then that kevin truly discovered how corrupt the crime within their small town could be, coming face to face with many horrors that eventually became too much for him,  leading to his eventual resignation from the police force.   he originally started working at the candy store for a chance at a normal life,  away from all the chaos that he had endured,  however,  it seems even despite the career change,  kevin cannot escape the demons that plague him in his everyday life.

[amythedvdhoarder]

Protection - Part 1

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warning: Mention of violence, swearing, angst and fluff

Word count: 2.8K

Author’s Notes: First ever attempt at writing anything, apologies for it being terrible 

series masterlist

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He ran his fingers through his long hair, he knew he needed a haircut but couldn’t bring himself to do it. His eyes are directed towards the training ring, he watches you studiously as you spar with his best friend. Bucky resumes his leg presses whilst keeping an eye nervously on what is happening across the gym.

Steve circles you and you mimic his actions. “Come on Captain, what are you waiting for” you tease softly.

“You Y/N” he smirks. You see his left hand drop slightly and in a blur of movement you are leaping at him, ready to swing around his neck and get him into a chokehold. But you don’t make it, instead you feel a massive force hit your chest as you are knocked backwards. You back thuds to the ground and your head snaps back and hits the mat, everything begins to fade.

Bucky is there in a second, sprinting across the room and jumping over the ropes at the side. His hands are gently on you, assessing the damage. He knows you are still recovering from an injury from your last mission, he curses Steve in his head and grazes his fingers over your cheek. He see’s you twitch slightly at the touch and slowly but surely your eyes flutter open.

Steve stutters from somewhere, still frozen in shock “Y/N? ...Y/N please … I’m sorry. Shit!”

“Lang…” you begin to mutter but then you become distracted. Your eyes are suddenly locked to the blue ones close to your face, you become aware that Bucky is straddled over your waist, his fingers still on your cheek. A blush begins to creep over your face, you squirm slightly beneath him and a sharp hiss escapes your mouth.

“Don’t move doll” he says softly “I am just checking you over, I can’t see any broken bones, you might have a little concussion though. What’s my name?”

“James Buchanan Barnes or Bucky” You are starting to feel uneasy now, you feel the dull pain in your head but the sharp pains coming from your shoulder are worrying you. You cannot get over how close he is to you, the concern in his eyes and the softness of the cold metal fingers tracing over your left shoulder. A gasp escapes you lips.  “My shoulder hurts”. Bucky nods in understanding, he can’t help the guilt starting to wash over him, he still can’t believe that he let this happen to you… Your face is pale and twisted in pain and he knows that even though Steve had been sparring with you, it was ultimately his fault.  

“Buck, we need to get her to the Medbay for a check-up, now”. Steve snapped Bucky back from his thoughts. “This might hurt doll” as he removes himself from your waist, he crouches beside you, his arm slowly reaches under your back as the other catches up your knees. You scrunch your eyes as he begins to lift you, you try to hold back the cry escaping your lips but don’t succeed. The sharp noise pierces the two super soldiers around you, both feeling a stab of guilt travel through their bodies. “I’m sorry doll, so sorry”. Bucky places a soft kiss on your sweat glistened forehead as he carries you gently from the room, down the corridor and to the Medbay. Steve follows closely not taking is eyes off you.

Tony stares at the two men as they carry you over. “What the hell did you do now Barnes?” he snaps. Bucky moves his eyes away from Tony to you. You look so fragile in his arms, he should have protected you, he knew that. “Put her down there, let’s have a look at you kid” Tony’s tone softens as Bucky lowers you slowly to the nearest bed. “You can go now, both of you. I will look after her” he turns to look at you “I will have you up in no time kid”.

Bucky and Steve glance at you and start turning away. “No wait ...” You called them, wincing slightly as you tried to shift yourself to see them better. They look back at you. “We’ll be outside doll, the whole time. Just the other side of this door” he points “call us and we will be there, Ok?” His eyes have found you and you can see the pain and tension there. You nod, you instantly regret it as another sharp pain shoots from your shoulder, there is a quiet intake of air through your mouth. You know they both hear it, you can see it as their shoulders slump further into their bodies. “We are right here” Steve softly calls to you as they both turn and leave through the doors.

You watch as they leave, you blink away the tears in your eyes. “Right, now I am going to scan your shoulder to check whether Barnes has done further damage to your shoulder” “it wasn’t Buck, it was Steve. We were sparring” you interrupt him. Tony tenses a little bit. You know he still hasn’t forgiven Bucky for what happened at the HYDRA base a month ago, you try ignore the memories thinking about it brings up. “Well whoever then” Tony says tightly “I am going to warn you now this is going to hurt. I need to sit you up and lift your arm out so I can get a full scan”

You nod in understanding as his starts to move you. A loud scream escapes your mouth, the you feel a sharp scratch as Tony injects you with some painkillers, the pain coursing through your shoulder starts to numb slowly. You look at Tony as if to let him know he can carry on. Tony begins moving your arm and then moves the scanner in front of you.

Outside in the corridor, Bucky and Steve are beside themselves. They hear your scream. Steve starts to inspect the floor next to his left foot. Bucky on the other hand loses it.

“This is your fault you jackass, what were you thinking, you know she is still recovering, then you hit her straight in the chest anyway? What the fuck man?” Bucky doesn’t remember moving but he now has Steve pinned against the wall by the scruff of his shirt. His left hand smashed into the wall to the left of Steve’s head. Steve stays quiet, shocked, looking at his best friend, he doesn’t try to move. His eyes meet Bucky’s hard glare, he can see the fight Bucky is having in his head to keep control. Steve’s look softens, Bucky slowly pulls his metal arm out of the wall, keeping his right arm firmly pushing Steve against the wall. “I’m sorry Buck, it was a reflex, I saw her coming at me and defended.” Steve tries to rationalise his actions, he knows he should have been more careful considering the circumstances.

Bucky’s grip loosens. He knows this isn’t Steve’s fault. It’s his. He can’t protect you in the way he needs to. He feels useless. You mean so much to him, more than you know. He can’t believe how lucky he is that you fell into his life over a year ago. Tony had seen what things you were doing at SHIELD in the UK, he had pinched you from them and made you an Avenger.  Bucky and Steve had been training you up, he loved watching you as you trained and gained confidence. He had studied you intently as you began to relax more into your role, your personality had come out. You had a sense of humour and he couldn’t get enough of seeing you tease people with your sarcasm.

Of course, there was something else; you were gorgeous, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, you moved with grace and had smile that made his chest tighten. It hurt him to be away from you, he was like an excited kid on Christmas day, always up early, eager to see you. He had learnt in the first few weeks that you like to go for an early run in the gym followed by a smoothie afterwards. He made it one of his main goals in life to be around you every morning. Bucky had bumped into you one morning when coming back from the kitchen with some water; you were walking down the corridor with a towel slung over your shoulder, tying your hair up as you walked, revealing a small section of your toned stomach as your tank top crept up. This was something that Bucky kept in his thoughts, the thought of slowly removing your top to expose more of your golden skin excited him. He had politely said good morning and asked you where you were heading. You hadn’t seemed surprised when his door opened the next morning as you walked past nor taken a back when he asked if he could join you in the gym. From then on you had been inseparable, you hung out all the time, watched movies together, you had been growing closer by the day. You would playfully argue with him about where to get lunch and tease him about his struggles with modern technology.

Steve had noticed how happy Bucky had become, the happiest he had seen him in since joining the team. Steve had a sneaky suspicion that Bucky was harbouring some pretty strong feelings for you, he saw Bucky snake his arms around you as he watched a film with you. He noticed how Bucky would look at you when you laughed or when you played with his hair. Steve had also noticed the way you looked at Bucky when you thought no one was watching. He watched as you waited for Bucky to return from a mission, you would nervously bite your bottom lip and twiddle your fingers anxiously. Bucky would call you on the way back from every mission and Steve would notice the grin and light that crept into your eyes. He knew that you felt the same way as Bucky.

Bucky let go of Steve fully now and dropped his head. He couldn’t stop the shaking that had started within him. Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky. “This isn’t your fault, you can’t beat yourself up about this. She is good at her job and she knows the risks around it. She wanted to start training again, you can’t wrap her in cotton wool Buck”

“I know Stevie, it’s just I can’t get the image of her on that last mission. Covered in blood, her shoulder smashed to pieces. That was my fault, she got hurt protecting me. I’ve let her down and she is still hurting because of it. I don’t deserve her; how could she love someone like me. I can’t even keep her ...” Bucky’s voice faltered, tears began rolling down his face.

“Buck, do you love her?” Steve questioned softly, he gripped Bucky’s shoulder softly. Bucky looked up at him and nodded slowly. A smile tugged at the corner of Steve’s mouth. “You need to tell her how you feel. She doesn’t blame you for any of it you know. She told me she would have done that for anyone. I know Y/N, she will be absolutely fine in a few hours, I think you and her need to chat. There are some things you need to sort out.” Steve fell silent, looking for a reaction. Bucky suddenly stood up he walked to the doors glanced in. He saw Y/N sat up, she had regained some of the colour in her face and was chatting away to Tony who was still inspecting the scans he had just carried out.

Buck turned back to Steve “don’t let her go anywhere, I will be right back”. Steve watched as Bucky darted off down the corridor towards the elevator. Steve’s head snapped back when he heard the doors open, Tony glared at him. “You idiot, what were you thinking Rodgers? You could have done some serious damage to the kid” “Tony leave them alone, let them come in now” you called from the bed. Steve entered. You looked around for Bucky but couldn’t see him, you couldn’t hide the disappointment as the question formed on your lips. “He will be right back Y/N” Steve stopped you as you the words had started to form in your mouth. You sigh and twirled a few loose strand of hair around your finger. You noticed that Steve was staring at your shoulder “It’s fine Steve, we were training.  I shouldn’t have rushed back into training”. “You’re lucky Rogers, no sign of further trauma, will just be a bit sore” Tony said handing you an icepack to hold on your shoulder. “Stay here for 30 minutes with that on, then you can go, you’re not concussed but I just want FRIDAY to monitor you for a bit. Then you’re free to go”. You glanced at him and smiled, he was like a father figure to you. He was similar to your father who had passed 5 years ago, so immediately you had formed a bond with him when you arrived. You could spend hours with him whilst he tinkered with his cars and suits, you had even helped him design your suit. Your mind had drifted and when you became aware of coldness begin to sooth your shoulder your attention snapped back.

Tony said his goodbyes and muttered about being late for dinner with Pepper. Steve stayed with you. “Once Bucky is back I am going to head off, I have a mission to prep for, Buck will look after you. I am really sorry Y/N, I should have been more careful”. You shifted, groaning slightly as you moved your uninjured arm around him, placed a soft kiss on his check and muttered in his ear “it’s fine Steve, no harm done. I’ll get you back next time”. Steve chuckled at this and pulled you gently into a hug.

Both of you heard the door close and quickly separated. Bucky was stood there, he had a smoothie in his hand. You saw some unknown emotion flash over his face and then it was gone. He looked at you and started walking over. “Sorry to interrupt, are you alright?” he said in a low voice. “It’s alright Buck, I’m fine” you replied a little confused. “Just a bit sore, nothing some rest won’t fix” you added. You licked your lips at the smoothie “is that for me?” He nodded and handed the smoothie to you; his eyes didn’t leave yours and you felt a heat move across your face. Finally, as you took a sip of the drink you tore your eyes from his.

“Ok, I am off then” Steve said suddenly as he stood up. “Sorry again Y/N, you should be able to go soon though, see you later Buck. Will leave you to it” You weren’t sure whether you were missing something, but Bucky shot a quick look at Steve who smirked slightly as he left.

“This is delicious Buck, thank you” Bucky’s attention was back on you at these words, he smiled briefly. “I mean it, thank you for helping me today as well, you’re always there for me and I love hanging out with you, hell I think I …” You were stopped before you could finish, a pair of soft lips touched yours. He was so gentle, he pulled back slowly searching for your eyes, his fingers slowly pulled your chin up to meet his gaze. He looked torn, you could see him licking his lips and then he pulled back “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I shouldn’t get in the way of you and Stevie”. You were shocked, you had gone from blissfully happy to finally have his lips on yours, something you had been yearning for since the first day you met him, to hurt. “Steve?” you stammered “nothing is going on between me and Steve, are absolutely mad! Are you blind? Bucky urgh you are so infuriating sometimes!” Bucky didn’t know what to say, what did she mean ‘are you blind’? He quickly brushed aside the heat he could feel swelling in him, God you looked so beautiful when you were angry. “I saw you together when I came in. Clearly you feel something for him?”. “Friendship Bucky that’s it, me and Steve are friends, you’re so oblivious, aren’t you?” you snapped back. You swung your legs off the bed, wincing slightly. You ignored the worry on Bucky’s face and left without saying a word.

Bucky was stood, horror struck. He wanted to follow you but couldn’t tell his feet to move. What had he done?

[obxsummer]

Heart of Gold // Hold On

word count: 3.1k

warnings: physical violence, cursing, blood, injuries

summary: there’s pain in your eyes with no escape in sight as you remain in the kook kingdom. the rescue mission begins and suddenly, it seems like agreeing to rafe’s terms are the only chance at living that you may have, especially when jj’s life is put on the line.

a/n: ooh i love some nice angst, y’all already know

masterlist

series masterlist

--

Your head was pounding against your skull as you laid on the cold concrete floor where you had fallen. A concussion was most likely the cause from Rafe slamming you against the wall before leaving you to crumble to the ground with no assistance.

“We could be so powerful,” He complained as he paced the room in front of you. With a sigh, he crouched down to survey your bruised, sunken in face. “I’m sorry I have to do this to you. I don’t like seeing you in pain but you clearly don’t understand my point of view.”

You rolled your eyes and shifted out of his grip. “I understand it loud and clear, Rafe, but it’s not happening. Tossing me around and beating me doesn’t change the fact that I love JJ and that I’ll never be with you! I don’t know how Sarah hasn’t run from your psychotic family because I would’ve never looked back.”

You screamed as Rafe’s foot collided with your ankle, snapping the bones with pure force as he glared at you with enraged eyes. “You’re pathetic. Once Maybank sees how damaged you are, he won’t want to even look at you. It’s over, princess. Whether you think so or not, I won. They clearly don’t care. They haven’t looked for you once and nobody’s said a word about the beloved Princess Y/N missing from her kingdom. You’re nothing. They were probably looking for a way to get rid of you all along. I just did the dirty work for them.”

Tears were falling down your cheeks as you held your knees to your chest. Your hand shook above your ankle as immense pain filtered up and down the injured area. Chest heaving with sobs, you let your head fall against your knees.

It was so hard, so hard to hope and have faith that you would be out of Rafe’s reach sometime soon. Sarah had come back every so often to sneak you food and water as well as tell you what she was hearing from your brother, but none of it eased the aches in your body. You were so close to giving up and just agreeing so Rafe wouldn’t touch you again.

“Aww,” He faked sympathy as he kicked you again, sending you on your side as you winced from the pain of your bruises. “It’s a shame. I don’t have pity for you. Perhaps I could find some if you just agreed to my terms.”

The door slam shook you to your core as you curled into a ball as tight as you could. Ribs aching, head pounding, and all you could think about was if JJ would be okay without you.

--

The kingdom became a mess of plans once there was confirmation from John B of your whereabouts. The four remaining members of your group remained by each other’s sides as JJ was given the special task of going in amongst the raid and bringing you back. John B would be fighting by his side, the duo having trained together since the beginning of days. Pope and Kiara would be behind the scenes, but ready at a moment’s notice for when the boys returned, hopefully with you in hand.

“Okay, we’ll move in from this quadrant all together and then break off into smaller groups.” JJ’s finger pointed at the detailed map of Kook Kingdom that was broken down into sections. “The prince and I will move in through this path to where Princess Sarah will be awaiting our arrival. The main point is to defend and distract until we can get Princess Y/N back to safety. As soon as you see the signal, back out if possible. Don’t be afraid to call for backup and if deemed necessary, shoot to kill.”

Pope watched over his friend’s shoulder as he addressed the group of soldiers in front of him. JJ never failed to step up when it came to protecting any of his friends. Now that it was you on the line, he would stop at no end until you were in his arms, safe and sound. Pope’s chest was full of pride to know the boy in front of him.

“You have your orders,” JJ concluded as he looked at each person in front of him. “We have one shot at bringing her home. Let’s not fail. For the princess.”

“For the princess!” The group repeated his word before breaking off through the doors to prepare themselves for the battle ahead.

JJ let out a deep breath as he removed his hands from the table. Turning around, he came face to face with three important people in his life. Kiara, Pope, and John B wrapped the blond boy in a hug as he just let them hold him out of exhaustion.

“Almost there, J,” John B ruffled his friend’s hair in encouragement before they broke their embrace. “Come on, Mom and Dad want to see us before we leave.”

JJ’s heart was beating out of his chest as he walked down the hall beside his friends. He was anxious about what they were walking into. He just wanted to have you home, and he was itching to get inside and make sure you were okay.

“Kids,” Your mother greeted as the group stopped in front of her. She looked exhausted, having been tormented by her own thoughts of what went on behind closed doors as she waited for your return. John B walked into his mother’s open arms and hugged her tightly, knowing she needed the reassurance nobody could really give except you.

“I wish I could be on the field with you today, but it is for safety that I cannot,” King John addressed JJ mainly as he spoke, “Rest assured, I know each and every one of you will do your best to come back safely to me and Mariah with Y/N.”

Kiara nodded, her hand resting on Pope’s shoulder. “We will, sir. We promise.”

“Be careful,” Mariah kissed her son’s forehead before hugging him tightly. She did the same with Kiara and Pope before facing JJ. “Will the three of you step out so we can have a moment with JJ?”

The three teens gave their friend reassuring nudges and pats before exiting the throne room to wait for him outside. JJ looked at your parents with concern in his eyes. “Have I done something wrong?”

King John shook his head and placed a hand on the young boy’s shoulders. “Quite the opposite, JJ. We know of your relationship with our daughter. We have for a while now.”

“But, we promise we aren’t upset. She’s so much happier with you than we’ve ever seen her,” Mariah reassured when she saw his face falter with worry. “JJ, Y/N’s always loved you. From the first day you met I remember her running to me with the biggest smile telling me about her new friend that she found. You’ve always been there for each other, now is no different.”

“I-I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.” JJ felt stupid in the moment for being unable to find words. He was here, learning that your parents knew every inch of your sneaking around, yet they were so kind and accepting of it that he was confused.

Mariah pulled him into a bone crushing hug, feeling him relax into her grasp from pure relief. She truly loved the boy, he was so good hearted. It was like he had a heart of gold, she swore at times. “It’s okay. We know you’ll save her, JJ. You always do.”

So, JJ Maybank stood there in the embrace of the King and Queen with his heart and his mind set on bringing you back to your kingdom and that was exactly what he was going to do.

--

Black spots danced across your vision as Topper yanked you to your feet. You stumbled and crashed into him with a whimper, your body failing to hold you up as you blindly tried to follow him.

“Ridiculous,” The guard mumbled as he continued to drag you from the room you had been kept in. Your eyes were wide in disbelief as you realized this was it. Rafe was going to kill you, and he was going to make sure everyone knew.

The Cameron Palace passed in a blur as Topper pulled you along towards where you assumed the throne room was. Shouting became evident to your ears along with the firing of weapons as you entered a long hallway.

“What’s happening?” You choked out as you attempted to look out the windows. “Topper, what’s going on?”

There was no answer as the young guard shoved you forward through the large double doors into the throne room. You tripped over your own feet and landed in a heap at the end of the stairs amongst the five chairs on the elevated stone. To your shock, King Ward wasn’t in the seat and it was instead occupied by Rafe who was smirking down at you.

“Finally!” He shouted, his voice echoing through the empty room as he stood and approached you. “I’m glad you could make it, really.” Rafe pulled you from the ground, his arm curling around you in a chokehold as he dragged you towards the window. You swore your feet weren’t even touching the ground as he moved while you writhed in his grip. Wounds were reopening at his rough actions, sending blood over your stained clothes and his pristine dress shirt.

Rafe’s fingers curled into your jaw as he forced you to look out of the glass. “Look at it. Your kingdom thinks it has a chance at beating mine to get you back. It’s comical, really.”

You whimpered at the strain on your sore body but you still had the energy to argue back. “Doesn’t look like they’re losing, does it?” You hissed as you watched your red and white uniformed troops take over the blue and white ones. “I know it’s hard to lose, Rafe, but I’m glad I’m here for your first time.”

“Everything isn’t as it seems, princess,” He sneered as his grip tightened on you. He moved back to where the large pillars stood next to the throne platform. Your back collided with the marble surface as Rafe yanked your arms back behind you. You screamed in pain as you felt a pop in your shoulder, the joint dislocated with the force of his actions. Harsh rope wrapped around your wrists, leaving you pinned in the awkward position as the prince stepped away.

The evil glint in his eye was evident as he stood in front of you, a devilish smirk on his lips as he observed your broken form. Stepping forward, he pressed a harsh kiss to your lips as you protested beneath him before he pulled away. “Contrary to your belief, my plan is just starting.”

Beneath the castle floors, John B and JJ were scrambling after Sarah Cameron who was leading them through the secret tunnels. Water splashed on their ankles as they finally climbed up the stairs that led them into the main dungeons.

“Come on. She should be here.” Sarah rounded a corner where a singular door was at the end of the hallway. JJ rushed forward, his anxiety getting the best of him as he threw the door open only to come upon an empty room.

“They moved her,” He huffed as the other two stood in the doorway. “Where would he go?”

“Throne Room!” Sarah snapped her fingers in recognition. “My parents aren’t here, they took Wheezie to the beach for the week. He would go there to watch the battle from up high.”

JJ squeezed the necklace in his pocket tighter as he followed the blonde out of the room and through the palace. His heart threatened to burst from his chest with adrenaline as they raced to get to you.

“Right on cue,” Rafe mumbled seconds before the room doors were thrown open to reveal JJ, Sarah, and John B. Your eyes were on the blond boy’s in seconds as you started crying in relief. They were here. They found you.

“Y/N!” Your brother shouted as the three of them moved towards you.

You shook your head desperately as you tried to get them to stop. “Behind you!”

Rafe had relocated around the edge of the room, both he and Topper jumping on JJ and John B and tackling the two boys to the floor. You and Sarah screamed in protest as you watched the two boys fight to free themselves.

“John B!” It was your turn to scream your brother’s name as he fell to the floor unconscious from the force of Topper’s hit. Sarah was by his side in seconds, cursing out the blond guard she used to trust as she cradled the brunette boy in her arms.

Rafe and Topper managed to get JJ on the floor as you cried and shouted for them to stop, all hope of freedom slowly leaving your body as you watched the blond struggle to get loose.

Rafe stepped away once his friend had gotten a decent grip on JJ. He turned to you and shook his head. “I told you, Y/N, you had a choice. I’m really sorry that JJ’s life has to end this way, with you watching.”

“No!” Your throat was raw from the scream you released as you shook your head. “Please. Rafe, please. You can’t do this.”

“I’m not completely heartless, though, princess. I’ll at least let you say goodbye.” He tapped your cheek lightly before releasing your hands, letting you go.

You didn’t hesitate to sprint across the throne room to where Topper let JJ go for a moment. JJ was ready for the impact of you hitting his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, cradling you in his lap as the two of you cried.

“You’re okay,” JJ whispered as he kissed your forehead before your lips. “You’re okay. I’m so sorry, baby.”

You shook your head, holding onto him as tight as possible with your left arm as your right one rested between the two of you from the pain in your shoulder. “You actually came.”

JJ held your head against his chest as he trembled. “I’ll always save you, Y/N.”

“Aw, how touching. Too bad I have to cut this cute reunion short.”

JJ shouted as Topper regained his grip on the smaller boy, yanking him to his feet as you sobbed on the ground. You turned to face Rafe, face full of tears as you saw him grab the sharp sword on his side.

“No!” You begged as you got to your feet. “Rafe stop!”

“Move, Y/N. I won’t hesitate to make you,” The prince growled as he approached, sarcastically brushing off the gleaming metal as if it had dust on it. “This pathetic being is the only thing standing between us and marriage, do you get that?”

You walked closer to him as JJ struggled in Topper’s grip. Your throat was tight as you fought to breathe and push air into your lungs, but you closed the gap between you and Rafe slowly. “I’ll go with you,” You agreed as you came to a stop. “You let JJ and John B go, and I’ll stay.”

“Y/N, no!” JJ’s face was red as he cried, his teary eyes never leaving your bruised form. “I’m not letting you do this.”

You ignored his plea as you set your hand on Rafe’s arm. “Tell Topper to let him go. They need time to leave the palace, and then I’m yours, okay?”

Rafe was clearly considering the offer on hand. This was a win-win. He didn’t have to clean his sword and he got the girl of his dreams all at the same time. “You double crossing me?”

You shook your head as he lowered his sword slightly. “I promise,” You vowed, your voice betraying you as it cracked amongst your emotions. “Let him go.” Rafe’s eyes watched yours as you turned to glance behind you. He waited to see if you would crack, if anything would reveal your true motive against your words. When he realized you were telling the truth, he motioned for Topper to let JJ go.

The next thirty seconds felt like hours. JJ knocked Topper down in seconds as he pulled his own weapon and ran headfirst towards Rafe. You spun at the commotion and panicked once you realized what was happening. Rafe reacted similarly as he grabbed his own weapon for attack.

Your legs moved before your brain processed as you jumped in front of JJ and shoved him away from the injury that would no doubt end his life. You hit the ground next, a groan leaving your lips from the impact. There was more screaming and shouting, the clanging of metal, and worried cries as you tried to keep your mind moving.

JJ’s crystal eyes appeared above yours, Sarah’s above him as you blinked. Your ears were ringing with noise as you tried to understand what was going on. JJ’s hands were red when he pulled away for a moment, making you confused as to who was bleeding. He was crying, Sarah too, as they both stared down at you, the blonde girl’s mouth moving but you couldn’t hear her words. You moved your good arm to rest your hands on top of JJ’s that were pushed against your chest, catching his attention. He shook his head, his tears falling against your cheeks as you mustered up a smile.

“I love you,” You whispered.

JJ shook his head desperately as he tried to stop the bleeding from your wound. He was shaking, his whole body freaking out as Sarah screamed for help, for anybody. His eyes never left yours though. He wanted you to know he was here, that he wasn’t leaving. Blood seeped through his fingers from the impact of Rafe’s sword as you protected him. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to save you, not be the reason you were bleeding out beneath him.

The world slowed down, your eyes growing heavy as you fought to stay awake. JJ watched, unable to look away as your eyes slowly closed and your hand went limp against him. Now, he knew. Now, JJ knew what it was like to have the world ripped away from you without any warning, and he sobbed with the realization that he didn’t know if he would ever get the chance to return those three words to you in this lifetime.

--

tags: @dpaccione​ @socialwriter​ @mimi-multifandomxo​ @hmsjiara​ @rudths​ @bubblyglimmer

want to be tagged in the next part? let me know here

[badacts]

eyes on me (pt.4)

This fic is about Gotham’s revenant problem.

(part one) (part two) (part three)

Gotham is a stinking, ratshit city sulking in a sickly combination of sea fog and smoke. Goddamn, Jason missed it.

Things he didn’t miss so much: being in the same locale as his own headstone. 

He’s aiming for the grave of Marc Rand, recently undeceased, but his feet move of their own accord to a spot on the northern side of the cemetery. He’s been here once before - it was raining, and he’d been sick when his boots stirred the smell of wet soil underfoot, spent the night shaking and sleepless in the dingy studio apartment he’d been squatting in.

Now, his helmet filters that out. He takes in the smooth white marble of the twin headstones, one for Catherine and one for him. A memento to his old life, still bedecked with a bouquet of white carnations. 

He’s not sure what possesses him to look closer at the flowers. They’re fresh white, unstained by smog and age so far, with a card on the tie binding the stems. He’s expecting the name of one of Bruce’s society pals, looking to make nice by dropping flowers on some dead Crime Alley kid’s grave, or maybe some stalker Wayne fan. 

Instead, the card says: I am the soft stars that shine at night.

“I am not there,” Jason murmurs, words falling like stones into the silence, “I do not sleep.” 

He always loved that poem. It’s either a particularly on-the-nose joke on Bruce’s part, or something else entirely. And he knows it’s Bruce - even in the florist’s typography, the ‘- B’ is instantly recognisable to a child who grew up in Wayne Manor.

So that’s why he follows Tim back to the Cave from the hospital. That, and the fact that his replacement may or may not fall off his bike on the way without supervision.

Of course, Timmy doesn’t seem particularly pleased to have his help. If looks could kill, Jason would be dead for the second time right about now.

“Just sit there and don’t touch anything,” he tells Jason, pressing an ice pack to the back of his head with his left hand while typing at the computer with his right. He sounds grumpy. Not angry, as such, but still low-key pissed that Jason dared give him a teeny, tiny concussion.

Really, he should have caught himself. Jason is good, but so is Red Robin, and Red Robin can’t afford to be taken out by an (admittedly ably assisted) tumble on a rooftop.

Jason is going to keep putting down the fact that Tim did get him in a chokehold to his brief moment of mistaken sympathy. He’s going to have a bruise in the shape of Robin’s shinguard on his throat to remind him of that, too.

“Here,” Tim says, files folding out across the largest screen. “This is everything I have on Rand. I’d read it to you, but I’m still seeing double.” Because he’s dramatic as hell.

“I didn’t grow up on the same street as you, but I can still fucking read,” Jason snaps, waiting for Tim to vacate his personal space before he steps closer to the computer. There’s a discarded batarang there, gleaming black against the table, and Jason can’t resist picking it up to feel the familiar weight. Tim isn’t watching, and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Probably.

Of course, before Jason can start the aforementioned reading, the Batmobile pulls into its spot, its familiar snarl cutting to silence. 

It’s not like Jason didn’t know there was a decent chance of running into Bruce when he came here. It’s just that he’s never as prepared for it when it actually happens as he thinks he will be beforehand.

Batman is hard to read in the cowl, but Jason can tell he isn’t surprised to find the two of them here. His attention jumps to Tim, still holding the ice pack, and he demands, “What happened?”

“Hit my head,” Tim replies, surly, with another of those killer looks at Jason. “It’s fine. We’re going over the Rand case.”

“Let me look,” Bruce replies, pulling back the cowl and letting it hang down his back. Tim, sighing, allows it with bad grace. “Were you knocked out?”

“No. It’s a mild concussion.” 

“They just don’t make Robins like they used to,” Jason says lightly, because he doesn’t want to watch this - the Bat clucking over his newest chick.

“I’m not the one that died,” Tim points out. He’s a shithead, and any regret Jason might have felt over giving him a head injury evaporates.

“Not yet,” he says, and even he isn’t sure whether it’s a threat or not.

Bruce pulls away from Tim, pressing the ice pack in Tim’s hand back into place. “We’ll get Leslie to check you.”

“I’m fine!” Tim exclaims, waving his free hand in exasperation. 

“We don’t take risks with head injuries,” Bruce says, like it’s a lesson learned by rote, right before he turns his gaze onto Jason. “Did you do this?”

Jason shrugs. “I maintain he did it to himself. Turns out he’s clumsy as hell.”

“Fuck you,” Tim mutters at him. Jason would have gotten a double swear jar penalty for that one, but Tim doesn’t even get a look.

“You injured him. Again.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “It was an accident, Bruce. I’m fine.”

“This,” Bruce points at Tim, like he’s pointing at a little cuddly bunny rabbit, and not a buck-sixty of highly-trained muscle and creepy, canny brain, “Cannot happen again.”

Jason leans back against the desk, casual. “Well, that’s it, Timmers. You had a good run, but Dad says no head injuries ever again. Time you retired.”

Bruce is scowling. “That’s not-”

“Or I can lend you a helmet,” Jason cuts him off, smiling. “The colour’s right and everything.”

“This isn’t a joking matter,” Bruce snaps. “You nearly killed him.”

It’s an atomic bomb of a comment. Just like he meant it to be. Tim looks surprised, but he shouldn’t. Or maybe Bats doesn’t talk to him that way, saves it all up special for Jason.

“Yeah,” Jason says, stripped bare of anything but the truth - no attitude, no humour, nothing, “I did. I hurt him. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill you.”

There’s plenty he doesn’t regret. Plenty of blood on his hands he’d happily get all over again. But there are also things he would take back, starting with the sick bite of a chainsaw between the vertebrae of drug pushers and ending with his bullet in Tim Drake’s shoulder. 

Doing what he does is a necessity. He believes that to the core. The taste for violence, the pleasure in it, the crack and wavering of his control - that’s dangerous for him. It’s an addiction that he needs to kick. 

He’s not sure if his words are offering that up as supplication, or just rubbing what he’s done in Bruce’s face. Bruce doesn’t give anything away. He never really does; not for free.

“And every time you did, you took yourself further and further from what that represents,” he says, and points at the thing Jason has been trying to ignore this whole time.

His old uniform, enshrined and adorned with the worst inscription Jason has ever fucking seen. It’s certainly no do not stand at my grave and weep.

Because Jason isn’t dead, but the kid he was? The kid that Bruce claimed as his own, the one he claimed to love? That kid is. And this is the grave.

A good soldier. A good fucking soldier.

“Bruce,” Tim says, and he sounds tentative. He’s watching Jason’s hand, while Bruce is looking him dead in the eye.

“Every time you do, you prove me wrong for ever letting you wear it,” Bruce continues.

“Fuck you,” Jason rasps, and throws.

It’s a direct hit. The glass cracks and falls in a cacophony, echoing in a roll across the cave to the point it compounds on itself. The batarang lodges directly into the armour over where Jason’s fifteen-year-old heart would have been.

“Fuck you,” Jason’s mouth says. “I was never your soldier.” His brain, that part of him that has been getting quieter and quieter since he left this place, the useless part that screams you replaced me over and over, is deafening. All he can hear is that, and the insistent thrum of his own heart.

There are hands in the front of his jacket. He and Bruce are eye-to-eye, and it gives Jason a great view of his rage. In that moment, Jason has never been surer that he’s about to be hit, and that’s saying something, considering his entire life.

He’s holding the front of Batman’s uniform so tight that his nails are breaking on the kevlar weave. 

“Stop.” That’s Tim, probably not for the first time either. But this time he prises himself into the space between them, unignorable. 

Bruce leans back immediately, letting Jason go. Unfortunately, Jason can’t quite convince his hands to release, or his brain to stop screaming.

Tim is holding his wrists, face very series. He whispers, “Breathe.” Jason wants to break him in half, but he doesn’t, and he doesn’t, and he doesn’t.

His fingers relax.

“Gentlemen. What on earth is the meaning of this?”

It’s Alfred. He looks furious.

All three of them freeze. Then Tim lets go of Jason like he’s on fire. It would be funny, if it weren’t for Alfred’s gimlet gaze bearing down on them. Or if the entire preceding five minutes hadn’t happened.

“Master Tim,” Alfred says after a long moment where none of them move, “I believe you have some homework to finish.”

Tim opens his mouth like he’s going to protest, and then sees the escape route for what it is and takes it like the scuttling schoolboy he is. 

Once he’s gone, Alfred turns. “Master Bruce.”

There’s a very long silence. Then Bruce says, “Hrn,” and turns away in the direction of the showers.

That just leaves Jason, still taut with adrenaline to the point his hands shake, standing below, and Alfred like an avenging angel above him, and a pile of glittering glass shards in the corner.

“Master Jason,” Alfred says, and then smiles. “Welcome home.”

[paronymie]

Two months late, but I’ve just realized I missed out on an ask game because tumblr’s tagging system hates me. I’ll just thank @myulalie for tagging me and get right to it! 

Without further ado:

Your gateway fandoms:  I think my first real foray into fandom territory came from Robin Hood (2006 BBC) fanfiction (which little 11 year old me read via Google Translate… Some real dedication there) - and then I came into contact with the HP and Fullmetal Alchemist fandoms. 

Fandom you most recently joined: Star Trek DS9, though my involvement is more often that of a distant spectator than that of a participant. I rarely seek fandom out anymore, unless I’m trying to read fic, find meta or share a particular viewpoint with other people. Once I’ve found what I need, I’m out!

Fandoms that make you nostalgic: Not sure I actually feel nostalgic when it comes to fandom. I’ll just go with DBZ and Pirates of the Caribbean, which I associate with good childhood memories… And I’ll throw Charmed in there too. 

Fandoms you’re not in but most often see or hear about:  Supernatural’s chokehold on Tumblr is still quite strong, and no one can ever truly escape from the MCU. I’ll also throw Succession and Our Flag Means Death in there… Seems like the latter is tumblr’s newest darling?

Fandoms you used to be in but drifted from: Most of the fandoms I was a part of in my early teens are now just memories. I had a (mostly ironic) tryst with The Vampire Diaries, and little 12 year-old me was Team Jacob all the way (I have not read Twilight since, but my stance on that hasn’t changed). I also gave up on Once Upon A Time at some point, which I do not regret. Whilst I still consider myself a reluctant Star-Wars fan, I don’t interact with fandom much, as it is an unholy cesspool. 

Guilty pleasure shows/series: I’d say anything I watch for characters more than plot is a guilty pleasure, because I don’t actually think the series in itself is very good. That criteria means a lot of fandoms I have been a part of ARE guilty pleasures… But I’ll cough up Da Vinci’s Demons as an answer, as it is the one show I absolutely despise but cannot get away from. I also dabble in the MCU for some unknown, ungodly reason - I have no idea why, as I don’t even enjoy the source material! 

Fandom you wish was bigger/you interacted with more: I actually like small fandoms, they feel cozy and not too crazy! The Wire is one show that still has a rather dedicated online following, but not on Tumblr, which I believe to be a shame. I also badly need the fandom comfort of spiteful commentary whenever I watch Da Vinci’s Demons, but alas… 

Favorite characters of all time: Does your work feature an anti-hero? Does he work for the real and very abusive Big Bad, or perhaps a slightly manipulative Protagonist? Have you coded him as a dark knight? Are his romantic interests tragically doomed? Is he going to die to achieve redemption? Then I’m probably in too deep. I’ll just name Snape and Vegeta because they’re some of my oldest faves, but lots and lots of my favorite characters share some of the traits I’ve just listed, if not all of them. 

OTPs you will die for: Let’s be honest, whichever OTP I’m currently writing for is probably the One… The writing frenzy is real. With that being said, I’m willing to bite someone’s ear off for Leario right now… And I might just be in the mood for Maul/Obi Wan. 

BroTPs/ found families: I find DS9’s crew delightful. I also quite like when an antagonist gets adopted by the protagonists… DBZ did this best with Vegeta, in my opinion. 

Fandom you post about the most: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ let’s be honest, I have no consistency whatsoever. Flavor of the month wins!

[smartalker]

Magpie Bridge [2/10 - Orihime]

ENTITLED: Magpie Bridge FANDOM: Mass Effect Andromeda - Reyes/Ryder RATING: M LENGTH: 50k via 10 chapters GENRE: Romance/Sci-Fi/Drama/Humor, in that order SUMMARY: With the Kett subdued and Andromeda’s terraforming system running at full power, Kadara Port swiftly establishes itself as the trade capital of the galaxy. The city’s unique combination of affluence, corruption, and growing power inevitably earns the ire of both the Nexus, and Aya. Under tremendous pressure to disavow a known criminal’s legitimacy, Ryder once again returns to Kadara hoping to broker peace, but the Charlatan wants something very different from her… ALT SUMMARY: Two people fall in love, galaxy breaks.

Ryder was different, but in a way that was hard to explain. Rather than changing, she had become more of herself. More confident, more focused. If life could be seen as a series of blows and each strike was another opportunity to shape a person, she had sharpened. Like a blade beneath the blacksmith’s hammer, she had solidified, shook off excesses—rather than bending.

Reyes leaned out over the veranda’s railing. He was at a local favorite, a new restaurant that specialized in breading and frying the local vegetation. The establishment’s peak hours hung between midnight and dawn, the darkest time. Kadara’s vegetation naturally contained weak toxin that, when warmed correctly, could act as a psychedelic for both humans, Angara, and the Asari.

“Waiting for someone?”

Distracted, Reyes reached for his battered leaves. The waitress who’d spoken to him raised her eyebrows. He’d been squatting for nearly half an hour, and the place was overflowing. “You could say that,” Reyes conceded. “But I think it’s going to be a while.”

Annoyed, the waitress eyed him for another moment, then left. He’d have to buy a round for the house soon.

Another important change: Ryder had more freckles.

Reyes considered the aesthetics of freckles as he checked his omni-tool. Nothing. Quiet.

The street below was very dark.

“Not much of a view,” said a soft, low voice.

He glanced back over his shoulder. A petite Asari in clean, new-looking space armor was lounging at a nearby table. She had a small, smug smile, and very dark lipstick. Once she knew he’d seen her, the Asari stood, and picked her way towards him. She was very slight, almost underdeveloped. No scars. Young? Hard to tell. “So who is this person you’re waiting for?” she asked. “A woman?”

“Of course,” Reyes smiled easily. “She takes her time. But I am very good at waiting.”

She regarded him for a moment, her black eyes curving with laughter. “Forgive me. A human is never patient.”

She attacked a half-second later than he’d predicted, with monstrous, raw biotics. Her power was wild, unrefined. It blew out the balcony’s iron railing and sent the now mangled metalwork not only across the street, but through the neighboring building’s wall. If he’d been slower, he’d have been dead. There were screams as those who had avoided the balcony’s blast rushed back into the restaurant—and still more commotion from the street below. Reyes scrambled to his feet, smiling at his attacker. “I thought someone was watching me.”

The Asari was frozen, her eyes livid. She writhed ineffectively at the biotic chokehold his bodyguards had slapped upon her. The veins in her hands bulged, and receded again into her skin. She stared at him, furious, still trying to smile. “You are more important than I had realized.”

“Perhaps.”

“You met with the Pathfinder,” the Asari snapped, her voice clear, almost loud. Was she wearing a wire? Or perhaps she had an accomplice? Reyes kept his features even, careful. He’d been with Ryder only hours before. His opponents were quick. The Asari continued speaking, with that same aggressive, almost confident tone. “Has the Charlatan allied himself with the Nexus? Are they finally ready to pay attention to the problem they can’t contain?”

“I thought the Charlatan was a woman,” Reyes said mildly. His assassin sneered.

“The Angara is nothing. Don’t take us for fools. Tell the Charlatan he can wear as many faces as he wants. We will rip them away, one by one, until there is nowhere left to hide.”

“Tell her yourself!” Reyes said brightly. Her jaw locked, struggling. Reyes watched apathetically. “I always wondered, why do would someone with biotics bother with poison? Surely you can just blow yourself up. Can’t you?”

The Asari’s jaw, frozen to keep her from biting down, strained to answer him, or to end things. You could never be too careful. He kept watching her as the mental chokehold’s pressure increased, until finally, she wavered, her eyelids fluttering. Her body fell pitifully to the ground, and as Reyes searched her, he realized that her slightness was, in fact, to be expected. She was barely more than a child.

She was carrying Angaran daggers, Initiative boosters, and her armor was worth more than the average mercenary could afford, sporting some kind of stylish shield tech he hadn’t seen before. Scans showed that several of her teeth were filled with poison, but she would need to crush her molars to access it. It would be very painful.

Reyes glanced up as his two shadows slid forward, awaiting his orders. He’d chosen the twins—a pair of ancient human biotics, the sort of old women whose discretion could be matched only by their uncaring savagery. Reyes had never liked using the Asari commandos. Too flashy. “Take her back to Keema. Whoever’s sponsoring her already knows she’s been captured, we might as well make sure the Initiative knows it too. When she wakes up, see what you can get out of her.”

“If she refuses to cooperate? We kill her?” one of the old women asked.

Child murderers. Leaving little bodies in the streets. Reyes sighed. Annoying, when the child had lived longer than him. “We’ll give her to the Pathfinder. The Nexus can take her into custody.”

The old women exchanged glances. Telepathy? He would have believed it. Respectfully, one woman dipped her head, considering the young Asari. “There is a chance she may be able to divulge something unsavory to the Nexus…” she trailed off, her silence fat with meaning.

Torturer. Murderer. Sadist. Ryder’s face, when she’d seen what he did to Avitus as punishment for failing to renounce Sloane. Her face, when she’d seen him as the Charlatan, known that even the title he’d chosen for himself marked him as a liar. Her face, aging and recoiling before his eyes, her obvious and instinctive horror. The moment he had realized that there was a part of him she would never, ever be able to see without flinching.

Absently, Reyes dusted the rubble off his thighs, and turned away. “Get what you can from her. Keep her alive. Make sure she’ll never be able to tell anyone, anything. Especially not the Pathfinder.”

Decision: he liked her new freckles.

As Ryder’s party stripped out of their armor and boarded the Tempest, several heads popped around the corridor’s corners to watch. “Nice to see you’re back,” was Lexi’s greeting. It seemed innocent enough. Ryder was already afraid.

“We just stopped for a drink on the way back,” Ryder explained, her voice oddly high-pitched. She glanced hopefully at Drack and Cora, neither of whom seemed interested in covering for her.

Lexi’s arms were crossed, her spine rigid. Very slowly, and with considerably deliberation, her weight shifted to one hip. “Of course,” the doctor acknowledged. “A drink.”

Or several. Ryder grumbled, then realized that Drack had apparently mastered the art of evaporation. Her favorite Krogan was nowhere to be seen.

Lexi had privately decided that she didn’t have the energy to badger someone who regarded their internal organs as currency, and she now settled into easier targets with a sense of relative comfort. “I’m not sure where to start. Wait, yes, I do. Cora?”

Cora’s mouth actually dropped a little. She looked indignantly at Ryder. “Me? Why am I being singled out?”

“Did you even wear sunscreen?” Lexi demanded.

“Yes.” Cora said, immediately and definitively and shifty as hell.

Scans reveal she is lying, SAM pitched in.

“Sunscreen is important,” Ryder pitched in. “Very anti-cancer, that stuff. Yep.” She slunk rapidly towards the nearest escape route, and was more than a little perturbed when Lexi’s hand snagged her jacket sleeve, especially since there should have been several meters separating them. Ryder smiled nervously. “You’re pretty speedy for a Doctor.”

“Aloe vera,” Lexi barked at Cora, who was actually jogging down the hall. Casually. Casual jogging. Lexi returned her glare to Ryder. “And you.”

The Pathfinder wore sunscreen, SAM reported. Nice to know someone was on her side.

“I thought we were arresting your boyfriend,” Lexi growled. “I don’t see a detainee. SAM’s monitors show your oxytocin excretion levels all over the place!”

“I don’t think the word excretion should be allowed on this ship?” Ryder said, to the ceiling. “I also would like to point out that SAM is a traitor and this is totally an invasion of privacy? Just, you know. For the captain’s log.” Lexi was still holding/pinning her by the arm. Which was buzzing. Her arm was buzzing? For one wild moment Ryder wondered if her weird headaches had migrated, but no, it was just her omni-tool. Someone was calling.

“Ryder, you might be able to lie to me, but your body can’t. And I am telling you, as your doctor, you cannot rationally or fairly involve yourself in this mission.” Lexi insisted. Ryder groaned. Why was Lexi so smart and caring? Why couldn’t she be a practitioner of the Band-Aid cure-all methodology? Twisting the knife still deeper, Lexi’s tone softened (her arresting grip did not). “Personally, Ryder, I don’t want to see you or anyone else be hurt. I kept quiet before now because, to be blunt, I knew you wouldn’t listen to me. I also was unable to argue that someone else would be better suited to the job. But I cannot continue to sanction your behavior without, at the very least, regular psychological evaluations.”

Trapped like a rat. The psych evals weren’t bad, truthfully. Lexi was a big believer in comfort as a facilitator of intimacy, meaning she had a very nice couch.

The Pathfinder is considering stabbing a fork through her hand to avoid discussing her feelings, SAM reported. Lexi’s attention diverted.

“Left or right?”

Non-dominant.

“At least you’ve still kept some pragmatism,” Lexi acknowledged. She let go of Ryder’s arm. “Fine. Collect yourself first. But then, we talk.”

Ryder nodded furiously, almost disbelieving her good luck as Lexi turned to go. For good measure, and because she was an excellent doctor, Lexi still remembered to nag. “And for the love of the Goddess, hydrate yourself.”

“Yes. Hydration and reflection. Doing that,” Ryder noted, already checking her omni-tool. Reyes? Reyes.

Meet me tomorrow morning? Café called Tiramisu.

Hell yeah.

Keema flinched the moment she saw him. Reyes preferred to work from the shadows when he could—but there were some things that had to be done in person. And there’d been a time in his past when he’d been good—very good—at climbing in through people’s windows. Even the locked ones. Even the ones that should have been impossible to open, like the window to Keema’s private quarters. “My god,” Keema breathed. She pressed a hand to her breast, likely more for dramatic effect than shock. “There’s no need to glare.” She recovered herself, obviously stalling for time as she waltzed to her private collection of liqueurs. “Drink?”

“I told you to keep your mouth shut,” Reyes snarled. He’d meant to keep things cool. Plans changed.

Keema didn’t quite look at him. “I disagreed.”

Reyes rolled to his feet. A weird, unknown energy vibrated through his limbs. Keema poured, offered. He shook his head. “I don’t want her involved.”

“She is involved.” Keema snapped, and tossed down her shot. She smacked her lips angrily. “Don’t let your feelings get in the way of yourself. The Pathfinder is more than capable of handling herself. She’ll probably find the fake Charlatan before you can.”

Reyes ground his teeth. “Not everyone will be able to tell the difference between the good and the bad, when this fake is found.”

“So that’s it?” Keema’s face began to glow. “I don’t understand you at all.” She poured again, almost forcing the next drink on him. “You worry what she’ll think of you.”

“I worry about losing our alliance—”

“She wouldn’t dare. And you know it. You’re a nasty piece of work that likes pretending to be just rough around the edges. And she’ll find out. And she’ll hate you,” Keema laughed. “You know, I sometimes wonder. What do you tell her about yourself?”

Extremely little. Reyes pulled himself back, returned to the dark window he’d cut his way through. The cold air helped, moderately. He’d come too far to lose control like this. “I should have listened to you,” he conceded, relieved to hear his tone could pass for polite. “Your concerns are real ones.”

“If I’d known it only took a human woman to make you back down, I’d have found you one sooner,” Keema snipped. Reyes drank before answering. Whatever she’d given him was hot, and painful, and nasty.

He turned back to Keema, offering a pleasant smile. “Now who’s being petty?”

“I beg your pardon,” Keema replied.

Cold air. He could be cold. “Your decision to ask for the Pathfinder’s help was the right one. But you still made it without me. I can’t have you making those calls on your own.”

At last, Keema nodded. “I know.”

“We were both wrong. Let’s agree to put this behind us.” He thought about leaping back out the window. It seemed a little dramatic. Reyes headed for the door, adding as he left, “Do this again, and you’re done.”

Reyes was late.

Ryder slouched back against her chair, ignoring SAM’s reminder that doing so would atrophy her muscles. Reyes was late. Of course. No biggie. Except that she was the Pathfinder and how dare he keep the Pathfinder waiting. Just saying.

Kadara was sleepy in the morning. It felt cleaner. Less crowded, that was for sure, but she also could have been feeling lonely thanks to her decision to shake her team. ‘Shake her team’ meaning ‘sneak out of the Tempest,’ a thing that was generally frowned upon and, definitely, bad. Very bad. Bad Pathfinder.

Ryder rubbed her eyes, sulking. She deserved to sulk. She was good at her job and responsible and could shoot a bird out of the sky at 500 meters. Did Kadara have birds? Irrelevant. Point was: people needed to get off her back because she had this.

Suddenly, darkness. A hand, hot and very dry covering her eyes. Close enough for her eyelashes to graze. She should have been afraid. She shouldn’t have relaxed. It was a very big and very stupid problem that she relaxed. “You should take off your armor sometimes,” Reyes mused. “It’s just me.”

Ryder twisted around, pretending to glare. “Do you have some sort of problem with approaching so people can see you?”

“No, just you.”

“Why just me?”

He took his time strolling around the table, claiming his seat opposite her. Even as he pretended to pout, his face was alive with laughter, almost mocking. “You’re so good at running away from me. I don’t want to play nice anymore.”

“That’s not fair.” Ryder protested, with new guilt. Did he think she was running away? She wasn’t running away. She was doing Pathfinder things.

“Isn’t it?” he smiled, almost gently. “Don’t look so upset.”

Ryder blushed, feeling stupid. Of course he didn’t think that. He probably didn’t think of her at all. She tried for a breezy laugh. “Upset! I’m not upset. Anyway. You’re supposed to be telling me about the bad guys.”

“What’s your rush?”

“Uh,” Ryder clamped her mouth shut. She was truthfully not even sure where to begin. Her sense of duty? Professionalism? Her crew’s constant vigilance and clear dissatisfaction with the mission at hand? “Nothing. No rush.”

“Such a bad liar. I almost want to teach you.”

“Why don’t you?”

He just looked at her. Defiant, Ryder stared back. He looked tired. A little older than she remembered. What was he doing that made so worn out? Did he ever get hurt—would he even tell her if he was? Would he tell her anything?

Reyes smirked, and she shook herself free of her thoughts. “Have you eaten?”

“Is it safe?”

“Don’t be that way.” Reyes leaned back, settling himself more comfortably into his chair. “You know, I’ve been thinking about you.”

“About me? What about me?” Ryder squinted at him, suspicious.

“This time apart, has it changed things? Between us? You seem more distant.”

“Distant!” Ryder squeaked, now indignant. “We kissed!”

“No. I kissed you.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“I like it better the other way.”

“You would.” Ryder snorted, then caught herself. She was not going to spend the morning flirting. She had definitely promised herself that. Trying for neutral ground, she gestured at their surroundings. “Why this place? Come here often?”

He rocked forward, pulling his chest over the small table between them. There was a new scar on his forearm, almost startlingly white against his skin. Ryder promised herself not to ask. Watching his shoulders hunch, the way he filled the space in front of her, she struggled to accept his physicality. It was ironic, considering how much time she spent ignoring Liam as he paraded his abs across the Tempest. “It might surprise you to know that it isn’t easy to get good coffee on this space rock,” Reyes intimated. He did his usual sign language with a passing waitress, which Ryder watched jealously.

“Let me guess—you drink it black?”

“Are you out of your mind? Three spoons of sugar. I like them sweet.” He winked.

Ryder stared.

Reyes giggled. “Okay. Sorry.”

“My father would have punched you.” Their coffee arrived. Ryder drank it straight, with a poker face that was almost murderous.

“You old soldier,” Reyes continued to snicker. He leaned back, now trilling an R at her. She kicked him under the table.

“Stop giggling! And! This coffee is terrible!”

“Like I said, you’d be surprised how hard it is to get good coffee on this space rock—”

She kicked him again. “Did you seriously just call me here to drink bad coffee with me?”

“I dream of the day,” Reyes returned. He was coming down from whatever giddiness he’d felt before now, and she felt sorry for it. Ryder glanced down. Her stomach was cramping. She should have eaten something.

The moment stretched and dropped between them. Their silence shrank and made space for the noise of the world around them. Ryder let herself relax, feeling oddly at peace. Beneath the morning sun, saying nothing with a dangerous man, she drank her bad coffee and watched him wake up.

Reyes finished his drink and offered his hand to her, “Come with me?”

She thought about refusing. Or even just asking questions. Instead, she followed. She followed him down side streets, through dizzying crowds of people, into long, dark hallways. Past empty apartments and arguing peddlers. Two fire-eaters were about to brawl for a street corner, their eyes and their flames both flashing. She followed him until she realized that she was lost—so lost that it would be hard to find her way back out, even with SAM. There had been too many things to see, so much to take in. “Will you be escorting me back out of here?” she asked him, half joking. He had never let go of her hand.

Reyes stopped. “I’ll consider it. What do you think of this?”

She wasn’t sure what she was looking at. It seemed like just another of Kadara’s alleys—small, foul-smelling. There was one thing, though—it was empty. An empty path in a city swollen with people.

The street is freshly washed, SAM noted. Ryder’s fingers clenched.

“Did someone die here?” she asked. Reyes glanced at her. He had been looking at the wall. Surprised, Ryder followed his gaze.

“Yes. There was a child here,” he agreed. There was something about the wall. She could sense it. Cautiously, Ryder reached to brush the rough-cut stone with her fingers. Someone had painted this building green—but not recently. At least a year ago. She was just about to ask SAM to run a scan for a deeper analysis, when she saw it.

“It’s a face?” she asked, already knowing the answer. She reached out to touch the left eye’s image. SAM was scanning. Rather than painting or drawing the face, someone had gone into the stone itself, and cut out a rough approximation of human features. The overall effect suggested that someone had just begun to emerge through the wall, face-first. “Well, that’s creepy.”

“Isn’t it?” Reyes asked. “It took me a while to notice too. They usually use the victim’s blood to paint something ridiculous on the walls, which covers up the face. It’s only after things are washed away that you see it.”

“The others were like this too?”

Reyes sighed. “There are others. Not all. The problem is there are too many copycats. Someone’s seen the paintings but not what hides beneath them, is my guess.”

She had to tell her crew. “You have pictures of the others, right? Can you send them to me?”

“Done,” Reyes agreed. He waited for her to finish scanning, then reached her wrist. “I’ll take you back.”

She looked around once more, then followed him obediently. He glanced back at her, grinning. “Some date.”

“We have our own style.”

He laughed. “I like that.”

He’d trusted her, letting her in. She felt good. “Is that the only thing you like?”

“It’s a start,” Reyes murmured. He’d paused to touch a passing door knob—and he’d twisted—something? But with the barest push she heard a lock snap and in the next second Reyes tugged her wrist, and she was in, off the street and in his arms, while whirls of lazy dust lit the air with gold around them.

Her heart was racing. “You came prepared.”

“I am always prepared,” he pulled her more tightly against him. “Are you impressed?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Yes,” he said, and just barely in time. Ryder lifted herself onto her toes, and pressed her mouth to his. She didn’t want to hurry. As she kissed him she peeked one eye open. He kissed her with his eyes closed. Somehow, this thrilled her. She broke away to kiss his eyelids, and beneath her mouth, they trembled.

“Silly,” he whispered.

She wanted him. She had to go back to the ship. She wanted him.

He knew it.

She pushed herself away, unsuccessfully.

“Where are you going?” Reyes asked, his mouth grazing the edge of her ear—a feeling between ticklish, and an itch. She wasn’t going to look at him. She wasn’t going to look. She looked.

“This isn’t going to work,” she hissed through tight, determined teeth. “I can’t do this right now. I snuck out while everyone was sleeping to be here, I—I said I wouldn’t do this.”

“Okay.” Reyes didn’t let go. “But do it anyway.” He pushed her hair back, rough hands on her neck, holding the base of her skull just a little too firmly. He kissed, lovingly, the extent of her throat. He bit, hard enough to make her gasp.

“Distracting me is definitely not going to work—”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.” He was pulling on her armor. No, he was barely touching it. Like a lock pick, her gear fell around her, like nothing had been standing in his way to begin with. Her shield plate, nearly banging her foot as it dropped. She didn’t even know that her arms could feel naked, but they did—they did. She couldn’t bring herself to even think about stopping him, not when it was so easy—why was it always so easy for him?

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” Ryder protested, barely hearing herself. He had knelt, and was unthreading the straps and snaps around her legs. Her thighs, now, bared to the air. Unconsciously, she reached to touch his hair, only just grazing the side of his head with her fingertips. He looked up at her, his face now catching the sunlight, his eyes shining. He seemed, suddenly, vulnerable.

“But don’t you want to?” he asked. She couldn’t tell if he asked to tease her, or because—maybe—she was actually something he actually wanted.

“Yes,” she admitted, horrified when her voice cracked. He gazed up at her, unreadable. For too long, he said nothing. For too long, she fell without a safety net.

It was too much. Her face burning, Ryder scrambled to grab her armor, throwing it back on. “I should go,” she muttered. He watched her. She wouldn’t look at him.

“Hey,” Reyes said. Ryder paid attention to her breast plate, to sealing things as fast as possible. “Hey,” he said again.

“What?”

He handed her a missing glove. “Can I try again?”

She hated herself for falling for him. Of all people. He probably didn’t even like her that much. When he smiled at her, when she saw his uncertainty—she believed that he did. Trying to hold on to her anger, Ryder groused, “You’re not a good man.” She pulled on her glove. He pulled her to her feet. His uncertainty was gone, or hidden, or had never been there in the first place. She turned before he could kiss her goodbye.

“Would you believe me if I said that I try to be?” he asked her back.

Ryder didn’t answer.

She was going back to the ship. She really, really was. As soon as she figured out the right way to sneak onto a secured military vessel, she was in there.

Ryder huddled behind a few of the docking bay’s larger shipping containers, sweating. She was so busted. She’d been brave enough to check the messages on her omni-tool earlier. Lexi was pissed. So was Cora. So was Kallo. She hadn’t even opened the messages fully—both because she was sure the read receipts would damn her further, and because the subject lines alone were terrifying.

“It’s the truant,” Vetra said.

Ryder choked, and whirled. Definitely Vetra. Ryder couldn’t tell if the Turian was angry, or amused. Or both? Probably both. Also: everyone and their mothers were sneaking up on her these days. Everyone. This was why she didn’t do things without a sniper. “Oh, hey there Vetra,” Ryder squeaked. “I was just thinking, it’s funny, because I had SAM install all these ‘predictive combat matrices’ yesterday and then everyone started getting the jump on me.”

Vetra crossed her arms. “Ha.”

“So. I was just—”

“I honestly hope you at least got laid,” Vetra interrupted. “Because Lexi has requested a full psych eval.”

“No,” Ryder whispered. She stared hopefully up at the Turian. “You’re teasing me.”

“You are arguably a deserter.” Vetra shrugged. “No biggie.”

Ryder wilted. Vetra snorted, “Jeez Ryder, take a joke. It’s fine if you’re fine. But don’t pull that shit again. You want someone to discreetly supervise your trysts, all you gotta do is ask.”

“Ugh,” Ryder rubbed her forehead again. Seriously, ow. “You’re right. I’ll apologize. I just wanted—I thought—I don’t know.”

“You thought you had a connection.” Vetra said simply. Ryder tried not to die.

“I guess you could say that.”

“You thought that by confronting him solo, you’d somehow be able to…reach an understanding? Or something to that effect.”

Stupid stupid stupid. Ryder buried her face in her hands. “Can you maybe not tell everyone about this?”

Vetra sniggered. “Probably. For a price.”

She could only lurk behind shipping crates for so long. Sheepishly, Ryder straightened, and tried to act like she had always been striding confidently back to her ship. “It’s not like I was completely playing hooky, you know. I got some good data. I’ll have SAM upload it.”

“Good data? From Reyes?”

Ryder lifted her chin proudly. “He showed me some stuff.”

Vetra sighed, and fell in line behind Ryder as they approached the lifts back to the Tempest. “So did you know that the Collective took an assassin into custody last night? Some Asari kid with really nice armor? Ringing any bells?”

Ryder froze. “What?” she whispered.

“He didn’t tell you, huh?” Vetra crossed her arms. “Thought so.”

“It might not be what you’re thinking,” Ryder defended. She’d never felt this way before. This cold, sinking feeling. It wasn’t disappointment or anger, but something more physical—something like fear. And what was she saying, anyway? Like Reyes tickled people until they told him what he wanted to know? Come on.

“Cute,” Vetra snorted. “Almost like you’ve never seen him torture anyone before.”

“We don’t know that,” Ryder snapped. She winced. She hadn’t meant to sound angry. Vetra’s face shifted, expression cool. If Turians had eyebrows.

“Listen Ryder, I don’t have anything against the guy. It’s a rough world. A part of me thinks he’s doing what he’s gotta do, but a bigger part of me doesn’t want to see what happens when you get sucked into it. Just remember that I’m on your side here, and I’ve dealt with more crime lords than you have.”

“Right.” She felt like such an ass. Ryder closed her eyes. Migraine. Again. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Vetra shrugged. “Don’t look so bummed. I don’t care if you fuck him.”

Ryder ignored this. “Wait. How many crime lords have you dealt with?”

“Does it matter? They’re mostly dead.” Imperious, Vetra keyed in the shuttle request to deliver them back to the Tempest. Ryder squinted up at her.

“You know that thing where there’s like a hundred rats locked in a box together and eventually they eat each other until only the strongest one’s left?”

“Ugh,” Vetra wailed. She looked genuinely horrified. “Seriously Ryder, what the fuck? Rats? Those furry things with the little wormy tails, right?”

“I mean it’s not like I ever did it!” Ryder defended. Vetra continued to look repulsed.

“Why are humans so gross?” she moaned. She spent most of the shuttle ride sitting as far away from the Gross Human as possible.

Ryder, meanwhile, spent her time bracing herself for the Mom Coalition, and the snarky looks she’d probably have to endure from Vetra, Chief Audience Member.

Upon arriving at the Tempest, however, Ryder realized she’d made a mistake. She’d assumed Lexi wouldn’t have adapted her tactics. Vetra had already settled into a comfortable vantage point against the wall when Lexi, smiling beatifically, said only, “Oh, Ryder. Your brother’s expecting you.”

“What.” Ryder said. It was not really a question or even an accusation—more like an instinctive, deep rejection. Lexi sniffed.

“I do have the authority to notify next-of-kin in states of emergency. Like, when you go missing.”

“Oh man,” Vetra chortled. “You’re gonna get it.”

“What.” Ryder said again. This wouldn’t do. She cleared her throat. “What did you tell him?”

“Probably just that his sister’s fucking a gang leader,” Vetra whispered gleefully, then in her normal voice, “I mean you are though, right?”

Like Ryder really needed a reminder of how much she wanted to punch a hole through the wall right now. She glowered at Vetra. And Lexi. And the whole damn universe. Assholes. Her arm buzzed. She had four missed calls from Scott—meaning her upcoming conversation with him had officially reached natural disaster levels of bad.

“I hope there’s something left of me after all this,” Ryder said pointedly, now shuffling to her cabin. “I hope you’ve all picked out your new positions of authority following my death. But just remember: someone’s getting a bot downloaded into their head. No movie nights while the mourning period’s on. You’ll be sorry. You’ll all be sorry.”

“Stalling is unattractive.” Lexi snapped. Vetra nodded. Heartless bastards.

Ryder sealed the door to her cabin, walked to the middle of the room, and simply stood there. She gathered her courage. Scott was still 14 seconds younger than her and, also, had once dated three Krogan at the same time, so his opinion on her love life was PRETTY RICH IF YOU ASKED HER—!

Her omni-tool throbbed, interrupting her outrage. Reyes? Scott. Oh, god, it already was Scott. Five missed calls meant she might as well start setting up his guest room. “No, no, no, no,” Ryder whispered. “SAM, put him through. Shit.”

“Shit,” Scott echoed back at her, with venom. SAM had transferred the call to her room’s main terminal, making her brother’s (furious) expression five times life-size.

“Scott!” Ryder laughed nervously. Her brother was glaring. He glared like their mom. Why was everyone in their family so much scarier than her? “Hey! You look tan. It’s good. A good look. I mean, it suits you better than being frozen for hundreds of years. The coma thing was not awesome either. But at least it beats acne! Right?”

Shit. Shit shit shit. So Scott had clearly not forgotten being fifteen. Ryder laughed nervously, now loathing herself. “So, how are the Krogan?”

“I don’t know,” Scott said flatly. “Probably fine, since they can survive nuclear fallout.”

“Yep. Nuclear fallout. Gotta love aliens!” Ryder babbled. She looked frantically for some sort of plausible interruption: the Kett attacking, a sudden loss of gravity, a hull breach, her pet space rodent’s sudden mutation?

All very manageable problems.

“The Krogan have been aggressively expanding their territory on Elaaden by building roads and aqueducts,” Scott said coolly. “Also, shooting things.”

“The tried and the true.”

“Cut the shit,” Scott snapped, his eyebrows shooting up even as his voice lowered—an intimidation tactic he’d copied from his mother. Ryder could feel herself physically shrinking.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but the Nexus sent me here—”

“Don’t start,” Scott interrupted. The video feed of him wavered, and for one glorious second, Ryder thought she might be able to avoid The Conversation. But he was back, snarling, “Do you seriously think I’m going to hang out in a desert while my sister acts out her own Shakespearean tragedy in Andromeda’s asshole? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Ryder coughed. “I think calling it a Shakespearean tragedy is pretty strong.”

“Is it?” Scott screeched. So the feed was definitely not flickering, as she had previously thought. That was just her brother’s rage-spit. “Because from my point of view,” Scott yelled, “I’m watching my last family member ignore procedure because she thinks playing detective for some shady-ass flyboy is more important than her life.”

Ryder squirmed as the familiar Familial Guilt began chewing up her insides. “Look, Scott—I don’t know what you’ve heard, and I get that this has you freaked out, but everything’s fine. It’s seriously fine. I’m not doing anything outside of mission protocols—I’m not, like, running off on my own—,” guilt levels were now overwhelming, Ryder swiftly changed direction, “—and anyway, I don’t think half the people here even know I’m the Pathfinder.”

The angry lines in Scott’s face grew deeper with every word she spoke. For a long moment, he was silent, only glaring at her. She could see him chew the inside of his cheek—an old habit. When he spoke next, his anger had been muffled into resolution. “You shouldn’t be there,” Scott said calmly. “And you know it. You should be with me. We should be continuing Dad’s work, our work—together. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“It is, Scott!” Ryder burst, “Of course it’s what I want!”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Then wrap it up, and leave. Or I’ll come to you. You might be the Pathfinder, and maybe that means that the others can’t stop you, but you’re my sister. The Nexus can go to hell.”

“Scott—!” Ryder started to protest, but he’d already ended the call. She stared at the screen for over a minute, seething. This was too much. He wasn’t even the older twin! There was a line between concern and controlling and why did no one seem to observe that?

Without another outlet, Ryder simply shrieked. It was sharp, and loud, and none of her crew apparently thought it sounded urgent enough to warrant investigating. Ryder threw herself upright, pacing angrily. It wasn’t enough to have Aya, the Nexus, and her entire crew riding her ass for doing her job, now her baby brother was joining the fray. Great. Just great.

Ryder stormed out of her quarters, brushing past a jittery Kallo, who was lurking near the Med-Bay.

Wait.

Ryder turned around. “Did Suvi eat something?”

“She ate three!” Kallo wailed.

Ryder shrieked again.